


A Trip to The Beach

by IShipThem



Series: The Motherhood Verse [1]
Category: Sister Claire (Webcomic)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 19:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4679252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShipThem/pseuds/IShipThem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I mostly just wanted an excuse to have Baby!Claire and Baby!Lupo napping together. Much like SC, this was fluff until it wasn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Trip to The Beach

They’re one hour from the beach and the car has got that particular sound of silence that only comes with driving in highways. It’s not even silence at all – Catharine hasn’t heard silence since the twins were born, to be honest – but more of a background quiet. The hum of other cars. The wind gushing by, muffled by closed windows. The tired ache of sitting for a long while.

Thinking of it, Catharine reaches over and squeezes Oscar’s knee. She smiles, turning her head ever so slightly, chuckling to herself when Cat clicks her tongue in disapproval. “Eyes on the road; yes, yes, I know.”

Catharine pats her knee again. Oscar blows her a kiss – although it’s more directed at the windshield than it is at her. Safety first. Cat is pleased.

On the back seat, Rosie and Marie are loudly debating the sorting of their favorite characters with Azi – the latter convinced Punzel is a Ravenclaw, the twins fiercely insisting she’s a Gryffindor. Catharine pulls down the sun visor. Through the mirror, she sees Rosie leaning across Marie, straining the seat belt. Marie doesn’t seem as convinced as her sister is; she probably could be persuaded on her own, but as it is, Azi will have to convince both or convince none.

The argument heats up enough that Rosie makes as if to jump upright, deterred by the seat belt. “Oscar!” she calls, waving her hands at her big sister. “Tell us what _you_ think.”

“She hasn’t even read the book!” Azi complains, bristling.

“Has so!” the twins reply as one.

“Has not!”

“Has s—“

Catharine clears her throat in the front seat. The fighting stops in its heels, though Rosie looks none too happy about it. Turning around, Cats puts a finger to her lips, then points at the middle seat between them.

Though they have it all to themselves, Claire and Lupo have managed to wedge themselves into a little ball at the corner. If not for the seat belts, Catharine thinks they’d be even more tangled up. As per the norm. They look like a sandwich, or maybe a puppy pile; Lupo with his legs on Claire’s lap, Claire with her head in his stomach, Lupo with a cheek smashed to the girl’s back. Claire is drooling into Lupo’s shirt. He’s chewing on her hair.

“Aren’t they going to get cramps?” Marie asks, peaking over the headrest. Lupo starts kicking, like he’s dreaming of rabbit chases. Mumbling, Claire burrows her face on his stomach, patting his hip at an odd angle. He settles; they go back to sleep.

Azi snorts. “He slept in the toy box once,” she tells Rosie and Marie, picking at an old scab. “He’s fine.”

“Why?” Rosie interjects.

“Why what?”

“Why did he sleep in the toy box?”

Azi’s features get somber. She picks at the scab some more. “He likes tight spaces,” she tells the twins quietly. Rosie and Marie exchange a look.

“Yeah,” Marie says, also quiet. “Claire does too.”

They settle back, subdued, and Catharine exchanges a glance with Oscar. She thinks of Claire and Lupo always choosing the same spots at the table, their backs to a wall – thinks of Lupo folded over Claire in the backseat, his cheek right over her heart, and Claire patting his hip wile barely conscious.

Rosie clears her throat. “Anyway, I think the second book is _way_ cooler than the first.” And Oscar smiles at the ensuing chaos.

 

* * *

They are scrambling for the door before the car’s even stopped, and Oscar fumbles to slow them down and park all at once. It’s a lost cause – apparently they’ve learned how to disable the child safety, for next thing they know, the girls are all dashing out of the car, shrieking like prisoners finally set free. Oscar nearly falls over in pursuit. “ _Don’t go running ahead!”_ she yells, sprinting after them.

Catharine is left behind, wheezing as she tries to stop laughing. Oscar grabs Azi first, yanking her by the middle, and the little girl kicks and squirms and starts screaming – something which sounds suspiciously like Little People. Rosie grabs a stick in the sand and starts brandishing it around. Marie’s kicked off her shoes and is doing cartwheels so fast she’ll end up with a milkshake for a brain. Catharine laughs harder.

All the ruckus finally manages to stir Claire and Lupo. They wake up with a start, heads coming up together, Claire’s narrowly missing Lupo’s. “Huh?” the boy mumbles, red hair still stuck to his mouth. “Are we here?”

Catharine swallows the last of her laughter. “Yes, we are, dear heart,” she tells him, taking off her seat belt. “How do you feel if we go take a dip?”

Claire roars up to life like someone just pushed her ON button. “We are here?!” she says, squirming out of her own seat belt. She doesn’t take it off – just outright squeezes out of it. Lupo yelps when she jabs a knee in his stomach, scrambling over him to get to the door, plastering her face to the window so fast her forehead goes “SMACK” against the glass. “Oh! OH! Lupo, look! Look, it’s the sea!!”

“Let me look!” Lupo yelps, kicking his legs like crazy. Keeping a straight face, Catharine reaches over and unbuckles him. He smacks his own forehead to the glass. “Oh my _God! Claire!”_ he turns to look at her, jaw slack with wonder. “It goes _forever.”_

Claire unglues her face from the window to smile at him – they have matching red marks on their foreheads. Then she whips around to look at her. “Mama! Mama! Can we go swim?”

“What are the rules?” Catharine asks her, going around to open their door. They start listing it off in a frenzy:

“Don’t go too deep!”

“Don’t stray too far!”

“Don’t drink sea water!”

“Don’t dunk!”

“Don’t accept dares from Rosie,”

“Or Azi,”

“Or Marie, cause it was probably Rosie’s idea.”

“But _especially_ not Rosie.”

Catharine’s heart melts at their exchange, and she resists the urge to smother them. Wishing she had gotten all of that in video, she pulls Claire’s shirt over her head instead. They pick up fast – their clothes go flying to the backseat, and soon they’re hopping to the floor in their bathsuits, snagging each one of Catharine’s hands and dragging her along like two little bullets. “Let’s go, _let’s go!”_ they cry out.

Laughing, Catharine runs after them to the waterline. Oscar, predictably, has forgotten all about her mission, and is now busy fencing against Rosie with another found stick. Marie and Azi take turns going at her legs, trying to knock her over, laughing themselves silly. “Ah! Three against one!” Oscar cries out. “Foul play! Have you no honor?!”

Azi, who now Catharine is sure has been watching Les Mis behind her parents’ backs, latches to one of Oscair’s thighs and proclaims: “We’re rebelling against the m—!” She cuts herself off so fast her tongue is almost snapped in two. “The woman!”

“Rosie! Get her!” Marie screams, outright tackling Oscar. Her head hits right in her belly. Oscar goes sprawling and Rosie is on top of her the next instant, swinging both sticks in her hands.

“Victory!” she proclaims, a second before Oscar grabs her.

The girls start shrieking with laughter just as Claire and Lupo hit the water, their feet spraying cold droplets in Catharine’s bare legs. They scream, jumping up and down at the chill. “Keep moving, keep moving!” she tells them, out of breath. “Don’t let the cold get you!”

“We have to go in all at once!” Lupo tells Claire, still jumping. “Mom told me!”

“All right!” Claire agrees, fixing on her brave face, plugging her nose with one hand. “Let’s go!”

Intertwining their fingers, they go running a couple more steps into the ocean, then kneel down just as a wave hits them. Lupo springs up first, pulling Claire with him – they’re already soaked, Claire’s fringe sticking over her eyes, and she laughs as he pulls it away. “Again!”

Catherine sits on the surf to watch them, smiles as they go under the waves – emerging with more and more splash each time. The twins and Azi finally catch sight of it and abandon Oscar in favor of their siblings, all five kids running about in the water like a small army. “What did we tell their parents again?” Oscar asks Catharine, coming to sit down next to her. “We could handle Lupo and Azi by ourselves?”

Catharine giggles, dropping her head to Oscar’s shoulder. “I fear our pride has been our downfall,” she tells her with a sigh.

Oscar drops a kiss to her lips.

On the water, Rosie and Marie each take hold of one of Claire’s hands and begin swinging her between them, back and forth. Claire laughs so much she can hardly breathe. Her feet go high up in the air. Lupo’s got a hold of Azi, his arms around her belly, and is spinning her in circles over and over, fast as he can go.

They stay out until Claire’s teeth start chattering; then they gather everyone up, even if Oscar has to snag them up in her arms and carry them back to the beach house.

 

* * *

They all go into hot baths; the twins and Azi in the main bathroom with Catharine, and the younger kids with Oscar in their suit. Lupo fusses when Oscar tries to wash his ears. Claire giggles, and he sulks, up until the moment she presses her stuffed kitten to his face and starts making kissy noises. If it works because Claire’s that powerful, or ‘cause Lupo doesn’t want Azi to see it – that Oscar doesn’t know.

Finally, they  settle down for dinner. Because they’re all under nine, and always in each other’s pockets, before long their food has become public property. Rosie, Marie and Azi disassemble their hot dogs soon as they get ready. Marie claims the bread for herself, soaking it in ketchup and mayonnaise and mustard. Azi wolfs down sausages, and Rosie gets a whole field worth of mashed potatoes in her plate. Meanwhile, Claire and Lupo are passing their food back-and-forth, sharing garlic bread and roasted veggies and bits of sausage with their fingers.

“As long as it doesn’t get in their hair,” Oscar tells Catharine, resigned. She laughs, but promptly pulls out the hairbands. Lupo, however, won’t let her go anywhere near his head with the evil things – even though he usually can’t resist her.

“Those things _hurt!”_ he tells her, diving under the table. Azi sticks her head underneath it.

“Those aren’t the same mom uses!” she says, rolling her eyes. Lupo peeks suspiciously over the edge of his chair.

“They don’t hurt,” Claire promises him. Her hair is pulled back in a braid, falling over her shoulder. Glaring suspiciously at the hairband, Lupo sits back down and lets Catharine tie his hair.

After dinner and dessert and bedtime stories, they finally convince the children to go to bed. Rosie and Marie settle on the couch, one in each end, socked feet touching. Lupo, Claire and Azi all pile up in a mattress on the floor. They kick and push and squirm until the blankets and pillows turn into a nest around them, a safe cocoon that nicely substitutes for a wall.

Azi sleeps fine on her own, her mother told them. Still she fists Lupo’s shirt and falls asleep like that, holding on to him.

Catharine muffles a yawn against Oscar’s shoulders. “What do you say we follow their example?”

Oscar presses her face to Cat’s hair: “Oh, _please.”_

* * *

The next day, Claire and Lupo are up at the crack of dawn, because of course they are. They carefully disentangle themselves from Azi, leaving her to sleep, and tiptoe to the kitchen to raid the pantries. Then, sharing a jar of peanut butter between them, go exploring the house.

Catharine wakes up to the sound of giggles inside her wardrobe. She drags herself off the bed, rubbing her eyes, and peeks blearily inside of it.

Claire and Lupo swallow their giggles immediately. They have the same _oops_ expression in their faces as they smile at her, the perfect picture of innocence. Catharine smiles. “What are you two up to?”

“Good morning, Mama,” Claire greets her, raising her arms for a hug. Catharine kneels down next to them, wraps an arm around Claire and pulls her into her lap. Kisses her hair.

“Good morning, dear heart,” she says. “What have you got there?”

“We found a treasure box!” Lupo tells her, shyly leaning against her side. Catharine shifts, putting her other arm around him. “A secret one!”

Catharine looks down at his hands. Lupo’s holding an old shoebox, worn thin by time and loving fingers, tied up with string that snaps at his barest tug. She frowns at it, wondering why it looks so familiar—

“Oh,” she breathes out, and all air leaves her lungs. “ _Oh._ Oh. _”_

“Mama?” Claire calls, her little palm pressing against Catharine’s cheek. “Mama? What is it?”

“Oh. Oh, dear heart.” Catharine has to stop – swallow, try again and again. “This… this was your mom’s, Claire.”

She can see Claire’s little face go through at least a dozen different emotions. Lupo notices as well, ‘cause he reaches for her hand all at once. Her lips wobble; she grasps for the box. “It’s mom’s?” she repeats, in a tiny voice.

“Yes, dear heart,” Catharine agrees in a whisper. She had no idea Clementine had left it here – it’s old, so very old, from a hundred lifetimes ago. “It’s from when we were little. For precious things. Do you want to see?”

Hesitant, eyes shiny in the morning light, Claire nods. Lupo leans in further – he has no such mementos, for it all burned a long time ago, and there’s something hungry in the way he looks at the box. Claire squeezes his hand tighter.

The past comes out one trinket at the time. Their mother’s shoelaces, the only thing Catharine had manage to savage of her belongings. A collection of pressed flowers. Catharine’s art project from first grade. A seashell.

And—

“What’s that?” Lupo asks, poking at the black-and-white picture. Catharine’s chest wheezes.

“That’s an ultrasound, dear heart,” she tells him through a tight throat. “It’s to see the baby inside of their parent’s belly.”

“Who’s this baby, mama?” Claire asks her, squinting at the picture.

Catherine dries her eyes with the back of her hands. “Why, Claire,” she says, trying for a smile. “That’s you.”

 

* * *

They’re one hour from the beach and the car has got that particular sound of silence that only comes with driving in highways. It’s not even silence at all – Oscar’s humming in the passenger seat, her fingers drumming against her tight – but more of a background quiet. The rumble of other cars. The motorcycles whipping past them, muffled by the windows. The tired drowse that comes after a holiday.

Because she’s driving, Catharine doesn’t take her eyes off the road, but she can hear the children’s soft breathing in the back seat. Rosie and Marie conked out half an hour ago. Azi had been asleep almost as soon as they’d reached the highway.

Claire and Lupo are still wide awake. Heads put together, they pour over a sheet of paper, persevering even though the car shakes and bumps. Every once in a while, they come across a flower they don’t recognize, and poke the back of Oscar’s seat to ask her. “That’s baby’s breath,” Oscar tells them, and Lupo hurries to write it down. “She used to put those in your nursery, Claire.”

Catharine smiles and changes lanes. She looks forward to getting back home.


End file.
